Dark Water
by Pilgrim Soul
Summary: A routine mission for Carson turns out to be anything but routine when a restless Colonel Sheppard decides to tag along. One shot, whump, CarsonJohn friendship.


-1_Disclaimer: I don't own the universe of Stargate Atlantis or any of it's characters I just play with them from time to time._

_Beta: The fabulous and indispensable Alipeeps who makes sense out of chaos._

_A/N: This fic is for sylvan witch as part of the LJ H/C comm's Secret Santa. _

Dark Water by Pilgrim Soul

Carson was starting to feel the burn in his calve muscles; he watched the long lopping stride of the man ahead of him and wished that he could have the Colonel's natural fluidity of movement. It had, of course, been Sheppard's idea to trek out into the middle of nowhere, in the middle of this world's winter, in search of some rumoured Ancient ruins. They were supposedly on a routine visit; there had been a mine collapse here on M4K-562 a month ago in which they'd lost 14 miners and 11 others had been injured. Carson had been stopping by to check on their recovery and Sheppard had tagged along more out of boredom than anything else. The Colonel himself was recovering after a Wraith ambush had left him with three cracked ribs. Elizabeth had assigned him to light duties but his constant whinging had resulted in her giving him the go ahead to accompany Carson. Because, Carson thought, this was just a routine mission, straight there, straight back…

"…what could possibly go wrong?" Carson mumbled, his breath condensing in the crisp air.

"What was that?" John shouted back at him.

"I was just thinking that maybe we should come back another day. You really shouldn't be over doing it."

"Doc, I'm fine. We checked in with Elizabeth and she said it was okay."

"You didn't give her much of a choice."

"Besides," Sheppard continued, undeterred. "I'll be back on full duty in a couple of days anyway."

"I said a week, Colonel."

"A week?" Sheppard stopped and looked back at him. "Carson, I've had worse injuries falling off my skateboard."

Carson thought back to the skateboard/laundry cart incident that had resulted in one very grumpy and irritable Colonel being stuck on crutches for three excruciating weeks. "Aye, I remember. Look I'm just saying that maybe we should wait until you're back to full strength before you go rooting around mysterious ruins. Nothing good ever comes of it."

"We're just looking. That way we'll know if it's worth coming back to check it out." Sheppard turned back and carried on his way, undeterred. "You know, the way you talk it's like I'm incapable of going off world without getting into trouble."

Carson could only roll his eyes as he watched the Colonel bound up the slope in front of him. Putting his head down, he traipsed on behind him across the icy ground. The trees were hung thick with frost and, against the pale blue sky and pale sunshine, it really did look beautiful, at least he could be grateful for that. It was only a few minutes later when he heard a cry from ahead of him that told him the Colonel had discovered the ruins that had drawn them out here. As Carson cleared the top of the slope he saw Sheppard standing in what once would have been a clearing but had, over time, become a tangled mess of vegetation. Sheppard grasped a scanner in his hand and was studying the remnants of a structure built into the natural rise of the land. Watching him, Carson couldn't help but be reminded of another of his friends.

"Will you look at this, Carson? It's gotta be huge. I'm not getting any power readings but this is definitely worth checking out."

Carson chuckled at his enthusiasm. "You know John, you're spending far too much time with Rodney. You're starting to sound like him."

Sheppard's eyes narrowed and he gave Carson an affronted glare. "I'm just saying this could be important. There could be drones in here, or more jumpers or… other weapons of a cool nature."

"Aye! So now we've ascertained that much, can we go home?"

"We only just got here!" Carson sighed heavily and joined the taller man as he began stripping an ivy-like plant away from a crumbling wall. The doctor couldn't help but notice Sheppard giving the occasional wince as he did so.

"Your ribs hurting you?"

"They're fine." Sheppard shook his head dismissively.

"Colonel, you'd walk around with a broken leg and swear blind you were fine. It's time to go, no arguments." He could see Sheppard wavering under his best physicians tone of voice and that told him that the pain really was starting to bother the Colonel. "C'mon, let's get you home before I decide to have Elizabeth confine you to paper work for another week." Carson knew that was a threat that would be sure to get him moving.

OoOoO

John stepped back reluctantly from the wall, only to stop in his tracks. He paused for a moment before raising his foot and stamping it on the ground. A 'thunk' resonated from beneath him. He looked up at Carson, his eyebrow raised, before repeating the action with the same result. Carson wandered over to him and they both stood studying the ground around their feet.

"What do you think, an opening?"

He could see Carson's indecision; beneath the practical and cautious veneer he was still a scientist and, as such, suffered from the same incurable curiosity as McKay.

"Could be. Certainly judging by the height of the walls, it seems part of the structure is underground." After a moments pause the doctor seemed to overcome his hesitancy and common sense regained control. "We'll make a note of it for when a properly equipped team comes back another day."

The Scot was right; they should be heading back and, although he didn't want to admit it, the dull ache in his chest was becoming decidedly more than uncomfortable but John hated the thought of another team coming back here, or worse, his own team without him. With a sigh, he stepped backward, only to feel the ground shift beneath his feet. There was no time for thought or action before the earth gave way.

John fell into darkness, the ground swallowing him up. He heard Carson cry out and knew that the Scot had also tumbled into the opening. The fall seemed to happen in slow motion and then suddenly he was consumed by the bitter, icy blackness. Cold water surrounded him, dragging him down; his lungs burned with lack of oxygen, his body not having had time to draw in a full breath. He felt a heavy shape beside him and instinctively reached out to grab at it, hooking his fingers into the straps that he hoped belonged to Carson's rucksack before kicking as hard as he could for the surface. It seemed like an eternity before his head finally broke the surface; he gulped in air, his chest screaming in agony at the new torture that had been inflicted on his ribs.

Carson surfaced beside him but immediately the water dragged him back under. John twisted his hand around the strap and held on tighter but he couldn't bring the doctor back up to the surface. Letting go, he reached around for his knife, relieved to find it still present, and, taking a deep breath, he dived back down after Carson. He groped around in the dark water. Reaching out he managed to grab hold of the rucksack once more and he quickly sawed through the straps, releasing Carson of its burden and letting the rucksack drift down in to the blackness. John wrapped an arm around Carson so that the doctor's back was flat against his chest and once again kicked for the surface.

Carson coughed and spluttered as they broke the surface for the second time and all John could do was hang on to him as they both filled their lungs. The air was earthy and damp and left a foul taste in John's mouth and the only light was a thin beam emanating from the hole through which they had tumbled. John glanced up; what had once been a hatch now hung some twenty feet above them, a corroded stump of a ladder hung nearby, its length crumbled away to only a few feet long - there was no way that they were getting out the way they got in.

OoOoO

Carson had often heard it said that drowning was a peaceful way to die. As a doctor he'd always had his doubts and now he could say with a fair amount of certainty that it had not felt peaceful. The cold water seemed to grip him like hands dragging him under and clawing at his skin like icy knives. His chest felt like it was going to burst as he floated through the blackness for what felt like an eternity, only dimly aware of John's struggles to pull him to the surface.

The world came back to him in a cacophony of sound, his own breathing so loud it drowned out everything but his heartbeat that hammered in his chest as through it was trying to escape. He felt Sheppard grip him tighter and slowly became aware of the Colonel's breathing and slower heartbeat echoing his own.

"Well…that was bracing," he heard himself say. There was always a slight feeling of euphoria that came with not dying; on the whole Carson tried to avoid such situations but sometimes they found him, or rather they found John or Rodney and he just happened to get in the way. It was several minutes before he could take in their surroundings, only coming back to himself when Sheppard leaned back in the water and began swimming, holding Carson like a lifeguard would hold a drowning man. He realised that wasn't too far off the truth.

Sheppard dragged them to a railing that jutted from the wall, barely visible in what little light the tiny hole above them let in. Sheppard was finally able to let go of him and they both wrapped their arms around the rails, hugging them to keep afloat.

"So what now?" Carson asked.

"I'm working on it."

"Well, how long before someone comes looking for us?"

"Couple of hours. Elizabeth will already be getting antsy about us not checking in."

"A couple of hours? It's bloody freezing in here."

"I'd noticed Carson," Sheppard replied irritably, his teeth already chattering.

Sheppard still had his P-90 and he raised it and fumbled with numb fingers to flick on the flashlight. The thin beam reached out across the black water and illuminated the vast expanse of the room. Where they had fallen through was the lowest part of the ceiling; it arced up in the centre to form the structure they had seen from the outside. Once this would have been a hall every bit as impressive as the grandest rooms on Atlantis but the water had claimed it long ago and Carson couldn't help but be reminded of images of sunken ocean liners. The architecture had been transformed by the water; slime grew on the walls and brittle crystal formations trailed from the railings. Structures jutted out from the walls, worn and distorted, their purpose lost over time. They floated in silence, their shallow breathing and chattering teeth the only sounds. Eventually, Sheppard spoke.

"There! Do you see that?" Sheppard lowered the P-90 and, as Carson's eyes readjusted to the gloom, he saw what Sheppard had seen; a tiny crack of light shone high up on the other side of the chamber.

"Daylight."

"And a balcony." Sheppard raised the light again, sweeping it across the far wall, revealing the dim silhouette of railings. "There's got to be a way up there somehow." Sheppard shone the flashlight across the waterline, following the wall, but no openings or corridors could be made out. "I'm going down to take a look."

"You're going to what?"

"There might be way through."

"Under the water?" Carson asked, alarmed.

"Do you want to stay here for the next two hours?"

"No, but…"

"Okay, I'll be quick." Sheppard bobbed up in the water, taking in a deep breath, and then duck dived under the surface. Carson watched the beam of the flashlight disappear into the black. He floated alone in the water, his shivering sending out tiny ripples across the surface; other than that and his ragged, shallow breathing it was eerily quiet and still. The seconds seemed to take an eternity to tick by. A sudden splash of water made his heart lurch in his chest.

"Did you find anything?" he called out to Sheppard.

"No. I'm going back for another try." Once again Carson watched as the light bobbed beneath the surface and disappeared. When he next heard the splash of water it didn't come from the direction he was expecting but from somewhere out in the centre of the chamber.

"Colonel?" he called out. His voice echoed back to him across the water. "John?" There came no answer but in the gloom he just caught the curve of a large dark shape as it slid back beneath the surface.

OoOoO

The thin beam cut through the murky water and John followed it down into the depths. He had always been a natural swimmer, having spent most of his childhood a stone's throw from the ocean, though this bitter water was a long way from the warm Pacific of his youth or the squally surf of the beaches near the Athosian settlement, and his uniform, complete with thick leather jacket, was cumbersome and restricting. Still, he kicked down further, tracing the line of the wall with his hand, its surface dotted with tiny creatures that had attached themselves like barnacles to a boat. Suddenly the wall disappeared, the light from the waterlogged weapon fading into blackness as he shone it into the passageway beyond.

Judging he had enough air to continue, he ventured into the passage way and, staying close to the ceiling of the wide tunnel so as to keep his bearings, followed it along until his lungs first began to ache for air. Somersaulting in the water, he started back. It was just as he cleared the corridor and swam out into the main chamber when it happened he realized he was not alone in the water.

The shadowy mass hit him with such force that he flipped over in the water. He barely had time to find his bearings again before the creature came back for a second pass. The thin beam of light only caught flashes of a dark silvery skin as it slid past. Whatever it was, it was toying with him; a third pass and the creature slammed hard into his legs, spinning him around once more. Sheppard turned and kicked for what he hoped was the surface, blocking out the pain and the cold as best he could. Everywhere around him he sensed the creature and his lungs were now on fire with the lack of oxygen. He could neither see nor feel anything now, he just pushed on, adrenalin the only thing keeping him going.

OoOoO

Carson had no idea how long Sheppard had been gone but every moment was an agonizing eternity stretching out into the shadows. He had seen no further sign of the creature he'd caught a glimpse of earlier but that was a fact that gave him no comfort. His mind imagined a menagerie of weird and wonderful creatures concealed in the murk and a thousand different ways in which Sheppard could have met his demise. One of the drawbacks of being a doctor was that you really didn't have to use much in the way of imagination when it came to dreaming up horrific ways to die.

He'd almost given up hope, it seemed impossible that Sheppard could have held his breath for so long, when the surface erupted twenty feet in front of him. Sheppard's arms flailed above his head and between gasping breaths he cried out Carson's name.

"John! John over here!" The Colonel's head whipped round, the light from the flashlight on his weapon catching his face so Carson could see the fear and confusion. Sheppard turned and swam toward him; as he got closer Carson leaned over the railing and reached out for him. Just as they clasped hands, the creature reared up out of the water behind Sheppard and Carson felt his heart stop. The beast was huge, the size of a small car. Its face was long and thin yet its dead, fish-like eyes faced forward like that of a seal; small teeth lined the edge of its mouth and a razor sharp fin curved across its sleek back. As it dived its head back down into the water, Carson felt Sheppard's hand wrenched from his own. Sheppard caught the rail just before he disappeared under the water and he hung on grimly.

Carson, acting on instinct, reached for his knife and threw himself at the creature, stabbing blindly at the dark mass that seethed in the water behind the screaming Colonel. He felt the blade sink into soft flesh and the knife was ripped from his hand as the creature released Sheppard and threw itself back under the surface with a high pitched squeal.

Hauling Sheppard up until he was slumped over the railing, Carson fell back into the water, utterly breathless, his body buzzing with adrenalin and his eyes scanning the water around them.

"What the in the name of God was that?"

"How the hell should I know?" Sheppard's voice was shaky and vague.

"Do you think I killed it?" he asked hopefully, unsure of what kind of damage he had inflicted on the creature.

"I really hope so."

Carson looked at the Colonel's face, pale in the dismal light. "Are you badly hurt?"

Sheppard's brow furrowed. "No, I think he got hold of my boot."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, my ribs are not gong to be happy later but that was kind of a given."

"So what now? What if the bloody thing comes back? Or has friends?"

"I found a corridor out of here but I don't know where it goes. Could be a dead end, could go down further. It's risky," Sheppard panted.

Carson nodded. "And staying here isn't?"

"Are you up to this?"

"Aye." Carson tried to sound confident. "I think so."

"Okay. It's about forty yards round the wall, ten feet down. If you start getting into trouble let me know straight away and we'll come back."

"Okay." Carson nodded, his stomach clenched. He wanted to be sick, unsure what scared him most, the possibility of suffocating in a vain search for a way out or being dragged down into the depths by the hideous creature that had attacked Sheppard. The memory of the slick black skin and the dull lifeless eyes made him shudder. "I'm ready."

Slowly they began to circumnavigate the chamber, clinging to the wall and each other, swimming slowly and quietly with awkward, increasingly numb limbs. Once they reached the spot where Sheppard thought the opening was, he went down alone to check, leaving a terrified Carson desperately treading water until he returned.

OoOoO

John found the opening on the third try; it was closer than he had thought and they had actually swum past it. Thankfully there had been no further sign of the fish monster and he resurfaced to find Carson waiting for him with wide eyes and an expression quivering as much with fear as the cold. Not that John could blame him; over the years he'd learnt to control his fear, to bite down on it and not let it win but that didn't mean he didn't feel it every bit as keenly as the doctor did right now and the feeling of the vice-like mouth around his ankle dragging him downward still lingered.

"Stay with me. Fast but steady, no panicking. Ready?" Carson nodded and together they breathed in, filling their lungs before once again submerging themselves. The dim light shone ahead of them, slicing across the eerie gloom as John swam, Carson clinging to the side of his vest, desperate not to lose his way in the dark. Diving straight down, they were quickly inside the passage. The deeper they went, the less the light from the P-90 penetrated the water until suddenly it hit upon something solid and John reached out his hand and felt it fall onto the roughened surface of a door not unlike those in Atlantis. He traced his fingers down it and in desperation waved his hand in front of the dead sensor at its side. Righting himself, he dug numb fingers into the seam, clawing at the door to open it, feeling Carson move above him to do the same.

They both knew they were running out of air; whatever was on the other side of the door would seal their fate but it was too late to go back. Slowly the door began to move and John willed it to move with every inch of his being. Once free, it began to move quicker and as soon as the gap had widened itself enough he pushed Carson through, snaking himself through after the doctor was on the other side. For a moment he lost the doctor in the gloom before movement caught his eye above him and his hand grazed the ground; he pushed up and felt the shock of air, sharp and cold against his face. He gasped in surprise, relief and adrenalin buzzing inside him. It was a staircase; they'd found a staircase.

It took a moment to register that they weren't dead; it seemed to good to be true. Carson had made his way to the slimy steps and crawled his way out of the water; he lay on his back drinking in the air. John followed, collapsing on his front next to the doctor, his body chill to the core and refusing to move another inch. The ground was coated in a thick slime that smelt appalling but right now it could just as well have been a feather pillow, his body had had enough. He laid his face against the floor and felt his jaw shiver against the stone. He'd never felt cold like this before; it consumed him and ate away at his bones, leaving him feeling numb and clumsy. He thought getting out of the water would help but it seemed even worse; the air clung to him and he imagined himself turning white with frost, his team discovering a frozen corpse - a Shepsicle, he giggled to himself, delirious with the cold and adrenalin.

"What's so bloody funny?"

"Nothing, I just… nothing. I'm feeling a little light-headed."

"Light-headed? Aye, me too. We need to find somewhere drier and more comfortable to rest. Then we can try and warm up a bit."

"You want me to move?" John mumbled into the step.

"I know, son. Believe me I do, but if we're going to get out of this we need to get moving." John placed his palms flat on the floor and pushed himself up onto all fours and dragged himself up a few more steps. As he did so his P-90 hung loosely beneath him and the beam of light swept across the floor.

"Bloody hell!" He looked up at Carson questioningly. "Turn over and sit down, I need to look at your leg." Obediently he did so and as he shone the light down onto his legs, he saw why Carson's face had furrowed in concern; a deep crimson stain ran down the stair and pooled out across the wet stone floor like an ink blot. The bottom of his right pant leg had been ripped to tatters and the skin underneath was mess of blood and torn tissue. All John could do was stare at the gaping would in disbelief. "I thought you said you weren't hurt?"

"I wasn't. I mean, I can't feel it. It's too damn cold to feel anything." He watched as Carson fumbled to pull back the tatters of cloth from the wound, feeling utterly detached; the only thing he could feel was the bitter stinging cold that seemed to consume him.

OoOoO

Stage two hypothermia - violent shivering, lack of muscle co-ordination, slow and stumbling movements accompanied by confusion. The skin becomes pale and the extremities such as the lips and fingers turn blue. Stage three, symptoms worsen once the body temperature drops below 30 degrees Celsius. The shivering stops, movement becomes difficult, the patient becomes incoherent. Pulse and respiration rates decrease significantly. Major organs fail. Clinical death occurs. Carson rattled off the facts in his head; this was how they were going to die.

Carson had used Sheppard's thigh holster as a makeshift tourniquet. The hypothermia was lowering Sheppard's metabolism and slowing the blood flow but was killing him just the same. They had managed to climb the stairs and found themselves on an open landing with doors either side. Lacking the strength and agility to force another door open, they had settled into an alcove. Carson clawed at his vest with frozen fingers, eventually shirking it off on to the floor. With effort he discarded his jacket and started to unzip Sheppard's vest, struggling to grip the zipper.

"You hitting on me, Doc?"

"And risk making Rodney jealous?"

"I can't help it if I'm irresistible." Sheppard grinned lazily through blue lips. Carson shook his head. "I'm sorry Carson." The grin had gone and was replaced with a calm expression; the shivering seemed to still for a moment and there was an intensity to Sheppard's words.

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, this is all my fault. I should never have dragged you up here… down here… wherever here is. Do we know where here is?"

"Not precisely." Carson frowned as the Colonel's expression grew vague even as he spoke. He could almost see the thought processes slowing down, Sheppard's blood loss hastening the progression. Between the two of them, they managed to remove the vest and the heavy leather jacket.

"Well, I'm sorry anyway. I'd never forgive myself if..."

"Don't be such a numpty. You weren't to know this would happen," Carson interrupted him, shaking his head. He huddled up beside Sheppard, wrapping his arm around him, sharing what little body heat he still had. "It was just a freak accident."

"Numpty?" Sheppard raised an eyebrow.

"Aye, numpty."

"You just made that up."

"It's a word," he replied impatiently. "At least back home it is," he sighed. "I wish we were there right now. My Mum makes the best soup, that'd warm us right up. You ever been to Scotland?"

"Yeah, I was based in England for a while, tried to see as much of the UK as I could while I was there. I like to see different places, you know."

"Naturally curious?"

"Yeah, that's me I guess. Good job I'm not a cat, huh?"

"Oh, I don't know. Rodney's always said you have nine lives."

"They'll find us you know, we've got those little doohickeys in our arms."

"Sub-dermal transmitters."

"That's what I said."

"Well let's just hope they get here soon, shall we?"

"They always come, they just like leaving it to the last minute so they look more heroic. I blame McKay."

"Aye, you usually do." Carson drew his legs up to his chest and huddled in closer. He talked about random things that popped into his head, anything to keep the silence at bay. After a while Sheppard's replies became mumbled and incoherent until eventually they stopped and Carson sat alone in the dark listening to his friend's breathing growing shallower.

OoOoO

Warmth. That was the overwhelming sensation when he first woke. In fact, he felt warm and fuzzy, something he soon realised meant he was drugged. He decided drugged was good; his body still felt numb but at least it felt like he had a body. He stretched slightly, wriggling down further into the covers, moaning at the feel of the soft pillow.

"I was beginning to think you'd never wake up." He blinked open bleary eyes. Carson lay in the adjacent bed looking pale-faced and exhausted. The infirmary was quiet and John guessed it was the middle of the night.

"You okay?"

Carson smiled. "Aye, no permanent damage."

"Me?"

"Doctor Taylor tells me you'll have some very impressive scars on your leg and you're going to be driving us all nuts for a while until you're fully fit but you'll live."

"Thanks to you."

"Nonsense."

"I'm serious Carson, you saved me twice back there. I won't forget it."

"Humph…" McKay appeared out of nowhere and flopped down in the seat between their two beds. " Well, I'm not going to be forgetting the image of finding you two curled up asleep together in a hurry either." John groaned.

"We were sharing body heat, Rodney."

"Yes, of course you were Carson," Rodney answered sarcastically. "So," he turned to John, "you got bitten by a fish?"

"It was not a fish," John protested. "It was a… fish… monster."

"Yes, of course, a fish monster… a monster fish." McKay sat back smugly, crossing his arms. "I really can't leave you two alone for a minute, can I?" John glanced at Carson who just rolled his eyes with a wry smile. Pulling the covers up and snuggling back down into the warm bed, John closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep listening to the sound of his two friends arguing.


End file.
